The Dapper Chronicles
by jess1994lol
Summary: KLAINE AU! Kurt meets "Sir Swag" the stripper and gets a private dance... But having spent all of his cash already, how can he repay this talented dancer? RATED M FOR SMUT AND LANGUAGE!


Sometimes I wish that I had never met Blaine Anderson. I wish that I had never walked through the door of that "male club," that I had never sat down on the disgusting, sticky stool next to the stage, that I had never ordered four margaritas and that I had never stayed in that sweat-smelling, glitter-ridden, noise polluted club. I really wish that I hadn't been the last guy left in the club, throwing my last dollar bills on stage, and I think that I hadn't let myself be talked into a private show from Sir Swag, Blaine's unfortunate stage name.

Alas, all of that was a reality, and so there I sat in an armchair in a room doused with red lighting. My inebriated eyes half focusing on staying open and half focusing on the rolling hips of the man on my lap. The dance was over as quickly as it began, and I hardly remember any of it. It was just as well, because what happened afterwards was much more interesting.

"I don't have any… I… Money…" I sputtered out, my head leaning back. "I threw it on the stage…"

"Well, that's a bit of a problem. Though you could pay me in another way."

"Like mopping the… Like mopping the floor?"

"No. The floor may be involved though. Get down."

Sir Swag tugged on my shirt, and I complied mindlessly. He pushed me onto my knees, grinning down as he placed his firm, perfectly shaped ass onto the edge of the armchair. I leaned my ear onto my shoulder, unable to keep my head up. Suddenly I had the feeling that Blaine was going to help keep my head up. Not that I knew his name at the time. The next thing I knew he was placing my hands on his lap, telling me to get on with it. Get on with what?

I decided to go with my instincts. I ran my hands over the hairy, muscular thighs before me. I pressed my fingers to the bulging leather banana hammock that flopped over the seat of the armchair, and then fumbled around with the buckles and straps that held the fabric in place. Once I revealed what was underneath, I took a minute to catch my breath. It was, by far, the most beautiful monument I had ever uncovered between a man's legs.

I toyed with it first, batting it around like a cat with a feather on a string. Blaine grew impatient, sighing as he reached out to grab me by the ears. "You're going to swallow me whole, and you're going to love every second of it." I instantly wrapped my lips around the head of his elongated cock, rolling my tongue around as if to be melting a cool Popsicle on an August afternoon.

Before long, he was thrusting his hips into my face, pulling on my head to make me get into a rhythm with his movements. I gagged; I had never had such pressure in my throat before. He didn't even know my name- nor I, his- but that didn't seem to matter. Faster and faster he thrust, my forehead smashing against his pubic hair, his balls flinging into my chin. With a gasp, he leaned his head back, and gave one final thrust before I felt warm liquid running down my throat. He pulled out, his dick flopping against his leg. I wiped my chin and laughed, falling back onto the cold ground. After a few minutes of recovery, Blaine stood up and rummaged around in a drawer.

I heard a buzzing in the background, and I turned my head to see with blurry eyes Blaine's figure walking towards me with a shiny object in hand. I had seen enough adult videos to know that he was holding a sex toy. I hadn't even noticed my pants off. With no warning, he pressed the cold cylinder to my entrance and shoved it in. I yelped, half with pleasure and half from being startled. Thankfully, I was pretty turned on from having just witnessed Blaine's orgasm, and the pain subsided quickly. From then on all I felt was pleasure, building up with each motion. He managed to push the vibrator in all the way up to the knob, which he turned to full speed. I moaned, hitting my head against the tiled floor. Blaine wrapped his hand around my throbbing erection, moving it quickly. It didn't take me long to finish, and completely coated his hand with my pleasure liquid.

We never exchanged numbers, but I told him my name and he told me his. I went home in a cab after that and the next morning I felt sore and regretful. Not regretful enough, apparently, because that night I found myself sitting on a sticky bar stool at the side of a tacky stage, waiting longingly for closing time.


End file.
